Embers
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! The sun was setting, and she had a perfect view from where she stood.


_**A/N:** Haven't had a chance to write all week, so here's a bit of something I did a while ago. Just a short one-shot. Hope you enjoy!_

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**Embers**

The sun was setting, and she had a perfect view from where she stood, forehead against a cool glass pane of her upper floor bedroom window, ocean waves softly swaying... his figure as he made his casual way left, towards the yellow picket fence on which he often laid out his damp clothes to dry in the salty breeze. He smelled so comforting recently, a funny mixture of his usual musky earthiness and the ocean air that permeated his clothing.

They'd been here at Shell Cottage for weeks now, planning and recuperating for what came next. And yet, they'd barely spoken, she and him, about the things she felt they needed to resolve. But somehow, words were not quite as necessary as she'd once thought.

Now, he was able to make eye contact with her for extended periods of time. And it drove her mad - not that he would, but that he _could_, and that he took his liberties with frequency.

He rolled his shoulders far below, and she watched his back, mesmerized from her spot high above him, out of his sight, as the setting sun washed hotly through his hair, lighting it on fire. It glowed with brilliance as she blinked heavily, sighing out a warm breath as she longed to be closer, knowing that she couldn't.

But _why_?

Why couldn't she, _really_?

What was there left to say now... to stop her?

She startled herself with her wandering heart, drifting lazily down towards him without her permission. And she found her socked feet suddenly cold against the rug beneath them, longing for an excuse to stuff themselves into her trainers and-

He stretched, arms over his head for a moment, a strip of ivory skin flashing towards her, trousers far too low. If only she could wrap her arms around him, feel a glimpse of his warmth, natural and soft and perfect.

If she could, she'd will herself to apparate beside him. Yet, it was in the unlocking of her way from here to there that she seemed to be permanently stalled.

But... wasn't she allowed to _feel_? Even as much and as often as she tried to shut it down... to tell herself it would do her no good. Not now.

But today, she found herself moving. To hell with plans and reason. Shattering walls she hadn't known she'd put between them.

Down the stairs, and her heart was pounding. Eyelids heavy with the drunken pull of his body and his world. He could envelope her, without realising, and keep her there, safe and comforted and brilliant.

And she was pushing open the front door, sun washing over her, forgetting her trainers and stripping her socks from her feet to lay abandoned on the small, stone, front porch. Her toes tingled against smooth sand as she moved forward, angling left as the sun glinted pink for its last few moments against the water. His thin, black, cotton t-shirt was pulled tight as he reached forward, folding a pair of jeans neatly over the fence. And she suddenly realised, as she came closer, that those jeans were her own.

She swallowed as his hands so gently smoothed them out, head ruffling as he attempted to toss stray bits of his hair away from his face as he looked down. His fingers ran along the back of his neck, and surely she would startle him. He couldn't have heard her approaching over the rushing, consistent sound of the ocean.

But he seemed to tense as she arrived, breathing salt through her mouth. She was trembling, eyes suddenly watering. And she couldn't remember if she'd cried since she'd arrived here. If she'd let go... enough.

His left arm dropped to his side, and she was there. Far too close. Her hands reached, arms gliding easily around his waist from behind. And though she couldn't hear it, she could feel him gasp and melt against her, his back to her chest as she fell into him, leaning her weight fully against him. Letting out every ounce of oxygen within her lungs. Relief.

"Hermione..." she heard on the wind, and his fingers, so tentative, feathered against her wrists where they crossed along his stomach, arms tightening and locking so they could imagine they would never part. His fingers moved so gently against her skin, soothing her as she closed her eyes, heart pounding furiously into his spine. And she hardly knew where she was. Only that he was there with her, consuming her.

And when she finally opened her eyes again, he had turned his head to try and see her, over his own shoulder. She caught his eye for only a moment, watery and glinting in the final rays of daylight.

And she could feel, in every bit of him, in everything between them, exactly what she needed. And everything she'd never known she'd ever wanted.

And she was finally at peace. If only for a moment. For now. Embers dancing on his hair as it whipped against his cheeks and forehead.

She could have said so many things. But she said nothing. And it was exactly all that she needed to say. He was here. He was safe. And she knew, without him ever having to say it, or to shower her with pointlessly eloquent speeches, that he would never leave her. Never again.


End file.
